Phoenix Tears
by Kainai
Summary: Mab caught Harry red handed and he's back - what does he do first? Takes place after the end of Ghost Story and features several cameos.  Focuses primarily on the reaction of his friends.
1. Target Practice

_A/N - Takes place after Ghost Story. To be safe: spoilers for everything, including short stories. As usual, I don't own anything – I'm just borrowing these characters._

_A/N #2 – 10/12/11 – I'm extremely sorry. I could've sworn that Harry and Murphy had soulgazed in the books at some point, but it's also really likely that I'm wrong. Thank you** larabeckinsale** for pointing that out to me. So I fixed those comments and reworked this chapter a bit to enhance that scene. I was going with the bare minimum originally – since I had thought there had already been one. I changed the way this chapter ends as I also need to rework a few things later on. The reasoning behind the 2nd soulgaze was going to come into play in a future chapter, so yeah._

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><p>I don't really remember getting here. There's some girl that Mab sent with me sitting in the driver's seat. Probably we drove. But I don't remember getting into the truck. I don't remember crossing the lake. Hell's bells, I don't really remember the argument that got me here.<p>

I feel paralyzed again. My legs won't move and both hands are frozen onto the truck's door handle. I vaguely notice the vibrations of the vehicle stop, and that girl – who I can't remember the name of – turn to look at me. Her head is slightly tilted, a riot of flaming hair spilling over her shoulders, and a look I can't quite place in her eyes.

Sympathy? Maybe it's pity. She touches my shoulder and my limbs start to respond as I hit my head off the roof. Yep. Suave, that's me.

"She's home," the girl murmured.

Damn, I really should try to remember her name. Since my vocal cords didn't seem to want to work either, I nodded and climbed out of the vehicle.

I didn't trip. Really.

It should be illegal for trucks that big to not have running boards.

I slammed the door on the muted laughter coming from inside the vehicle, and stomped up the walkway to the door. I knocked on the door. And promptly fell on my ass when the wards zapped me. Super.

I noticed Murphy standing in the doorway with a shotgun aimed at my face about the same time I realized that I was sitting on the ground rubbing my own ass.

"I must be special; I don't remember those wards trying to electrocute Mort when _he_ knocked."

Still standing behind the wards, she cocked the rifle. Apparently Murphy has become immune to my charming wit and good taste.

"Um. Hi, Karrin?"

"This is _NOT_ funny. You have a three second head start, and then you can dodge buckshot."

Yeowzers.

"Um..." Gosh, I'm brilliant. I know that she's become extremely paranoid, and I hadn't even thought about what to say. Well, that's not entirely true. I probably did think about it on the way, but seeing the house rendered me nearly comatose.

"Look, I realize you don't believe me right now – but it IS me. Call Mollie. Call Butters and have him bring over Bob. Heck, go get Mister or Mouse.

"Because you were right. I wasn't dead – I was a pawn for Mab and that spirit on Demonsreach. Well, I think it was that island's spirit. I can explain, just let me explain."

She narrowed her eyes and glanced at the Dodge Ram sitting on the side of the road. "Who's that?"

"Uh. Yeah. Not sure. Mab had her take me here since I had no car... or anything really."

"You don't know her name."

I could feel my cheeks heating up. "Well, no. I'm sure I was told... I just... a lot of things are blurry. I remember getting dragged into Molly's head when she battled the Corpsemaker. I remember chatting with Uriel. I remember walking through a doorway expecting to pass on or something - and waking up in a cave with Mab leering over me instead. I remember who ki–"

I bit my lip quickly. If I tell her that before she's sure it's me, she probably wouldn't bother counting. She'd just start shooting.

Of course, she might start shooting even after she knows it's me when she finds out that I put a hit out on myself.

Note to self: stand behind somebody she likes when we get to that part. Or at least make sure there aren't any firearms in easy reach. Besides, I was still sprawled out on the pavement. I was a sitting duck and she already had the gun trained on me.

"Who killed you, then?"

"Murph..."

"Damnit, I'm not getting anyone over here for some prank. Get. Lost."

And she fired a shot that missed my foot by an inch.

"Hell's bells Karrin." I scrambled to my feet. "It's me."

She narrowed her eyes and met my gaze. I felt a pull as a soul gaze began, and this time neither of us looked away.

Karrin was gone. The house was gone. Instead, I was standing in the doorway of an office that badly needed a date with a decorator. A scarred desk featuring a mountain of paper and a typewriter was situated across from me facing the door. One leg was being held up with a book. Two chairs sat facing it, both bright orange and upholstered in ripped vinyl. The chair behind the desk wasn't much better – but at least it was black instead of orange. Bookcases flanked the window on the far wall, while wood paneling coated the walls down to some truly amazing lime green linoleum tile. I'm sure it was the height of style during the 60s.

One wall to the side was virtually swallowed up by a single huge painting. From the door it looked blank. Since nothing else seemed to be happening in the office – and the door behind me was locked – I went and stood in front of it.

After a moment, the stark white canvas began to swirl – it looked as though the canvas was being twisted in the frame. After what seemed like a year, a picture snapped into place with an audible _pop_. I looked in at Murphy's childhood bedroom, and my eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. It was _girly._

The carpeting was pale pink shag. Eggshell white paint gave way to a mural of Sleeping Beauty's castle. From my perspective, I could see that it was a shared bedroom. One side of the room held a crib painted white with a Winnie-The-Pooh mobile hanging over it. The other held a single bed – also painted white – with a lacy pink bedspread. Stuffed animals crowded the pillows and it looked like eleven year old Murphy was trying to drown herself in them. She was shaking with tears.

"Aww, Karrin..."

Somebody cleared their throat behind me, and I spun around.

She wasn't the angel that I remember Seeing. Her cropped blond locks were once again long, flowing and glowing brilliantly. But the tattered and stained white robes I last Saw her wearing were replaced with gleaming silver armour. A winged helmet graced her head. The shotgun was gone. Instead, she held a wooden longbow covered in both scrollwork and runes. A silver arrow fletched with white feathers was cocked and pointing at my face. Some things never change.

"He was my everything," she murmured as tears streaked down her face. And then she loosed the arrow.


	2. Bullseye

_A/N – This contains the (slightly modified) portion I chopped off the first chapter when I fixed my soulgaze mistake. I had to cut out the conversation between Murphy and Harry in the living room as a result, so I apologize if the result is a bit lame._

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><p>The soulgaze broke, and once again I found myself sprawled on the pavement. This time, however, I had a bit more to think about. Murphy wasn't the angel I had always suspected. She was a freaking valkyrie.<p>

I eventually realized that I looked like a baby bird wanting to get fed, so I clamped my mouth shut. Murphy just stared.

"Well. Wow. A soulgaze. Or we could do that."

I studied Murph some more. She still had her hair chopped off way too short in my opinion, but the steel in her eyes was melting and the gun was no longer pointed between my eyes. Yippee for progress!

"I wasn't thinking straight, you know. The whole deal with Maggy..." A lump formed in my throat and threatened to choke me. I closed my eyes, swallowed and ploughed ahead. "I made some shitty choices. Actually, I made a lot of them. I never meant for this. I'm so sorry Karrin; you have no idea how sorry."

Call me crazy, but I think she tried to blink away some tears too. She looked over my shoulder, and I realized that my driver was standing about two feet away – behind me and slightly to the left. She must have gotten out of the truck when Murphy started shooting.

The redhead just shrugged. "I'll go wait in the truck."

"No, no." Murphy looked chagrined. Apparently some early childhood hospitality training had kicked in. She stepped aside and finished lowering the rifle. "I won't invite you in, but I'll still serve you coffee in the living room."

The girl smiled slightly and shook her head. "This isn't my party. I'll wait outside." She shooed me away with her hands, and turned back towards the pickup.

Me? Well, I walked across the threshold and left most of my magic behind.

Murphy pointed me to the couch and walked into the kitchen, leaving me standing in the doorway feeling awkward. Nothing new there. So I decided to play the good guest, and seated myself where she had indicated.

The room hadn't changed since the last time I had seen it. A little too girly for Murph, but she did her darnedest to offset the doilies by adding a gun cleaning kit and various firearms to the decor. The room was chilly, and I wondered why I wasn't wearing my duster. It took me a minute to realize that my duster was pretty much destroyed during the battle at Chichen Itza and that I was naked when I woke up in the cave.

I didn't remember getting dressed and panicked a little.

I panicked a little more when I realized that I _was_ dressed. What I was wearing could loosely be called clothes. Mab or my godmother probably picked it out as some kind of cruel joke.

I was wearing shiny silver dress pants, thong sandals and a silk baby blue version of the puffy shirt. Yes, _the_ _freaking puffy shirt_. Sheesh, no wonder Murphy was sceptical.

I could hear murmurs from the kitchen – Murphy was probably talking on the phone – and started picking at the frills down the front of my shirt. I was still fiddling with them when Murphy reappeared in the doorway and burst out laughing. I transferred my scowl from my offensive clothing to her.

"I can't believe they dressed me in this crap."

"I like it. It's payback for putting me through hell." She handed me a mug of steaming coffee and sat on the chair across from me.

I took a sip of the piping hot ambrosia. Neither of us said a word, we just sat there drinking coffee as the clock ticked.

"I sort of expected you to be angrier." I could see a wry smile appear half hidden behind her mug.

"Later. I made some calls, people will be getting here very soon. Then you can explain." She took another sip. "And I still haven't ruled out shooting you."

Another minute of silence, and Murphy caught me rubbernecking around. "Where's Mister?"

"Out. I suspect he's hunting deer."

More silence. Which was probably a good thing considering how good I am at sticking my foot all the way down my throat.

After approximately three geological epochs, the doorbell rang and my stomach dropped down to my ridiculous sandals. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's keeping cool, calm and collected in the face of confrontation.

Murphy got up, walked over to the door, and whispered something to Thomas before she let him in. I, clever guy that I am, got up to greet him. Thankfully, I had put the coffee down first because he crossed the distance to me in about two steps and sucker punched me. It would've been such a shame to spill my first coffee in six months all over Murphy's nice furniture.

He didn't hold back either. The force of the strike knocked me backwards over the couch and onto the floor beyond.

"On the floor again. This must be some kind of record." The power of the Winter Knight kept the brunt of the pain away, but my lament still came out as a groan. And my brother was walking towards me again with murder in his eyes.

Murphy piped up, her voice suspiciously gleeful. "Relax, will you? Other people will want a round with him too."

"Did you hit him yet?" This from my darling brother.

"No, I shot at him."

"You missed?"

"On purpose." She shot Thomas a wide smile. "We'll save the best for last."

"I don't know. You'd have to do some creative shooting to outdo what Molly has planned."

I blanched a little. "Good grief," I muttered, setting myself back onto my feet for the umpteenth time today. "My ears work."

"So does your mouth. So use it." His murderous advance might have stopped, but his demon hadn't completely subsided. His skin was otherworldly pale, and his pupils had vanished behind the white of his eyes.

I took a step away, and heard a car door slam. Talk about nice timing.

Murphy raised a finger at Thomas to tell him to wait, and opened the door once again.

Will walked in first, holding what looked to be a suitcase and some sort of baby carrying device. Georgia soon followed, holding a bundle wrapped in a blue blanket. I used my super duper investigative skills to determine that it must be their kid and that they had a boy.

And then a gray coloured missile streaked through the door and lunged at my knees.

And I fell over. Again.

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><p><em>Final AN – I can't recall if Georgia's baby mentioned in Ghost Story and Google was no help at all, so I'm using a bit of creative license here. Don't shoot me if the baby is the wrong gender and supposed to have been called Francine. Or something. _

_2nd Thing - The next chapter is rather big, and there will probably be four total.  
><em>


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